Icons in Progress

I wanted to show my readers some of the latest iconography that is currently in progress.  Double-click on the image to enlarge the photograph.  Note:  the camera does not do justice to the colors.

This is the second icon that I've written of Our Lady of Walsingham.  The size is 11.5 in. x 21.5 in., acrylic on wood.  It debuted this past Friday at the Sewanee Taize service at St. Luke's Chapel.  It adorns my prayer desk and never fails to move me into contemplation.  What strikes me are the eyes; a mother looks with tender love into those of her own son, knowing in her heart that his path will take him away from her.  The compassion and loving expression gets me, which is why I adore this particular icon of Our Lady.

I begun work at our recent Seminary Quiet day on Saint Edward the Confessor, whose shrine adorns the royal peculiar of Westminster Abbey in London.  St. Edward is a continuation of my desire to restore the images of British saints from the past--which now includes icons of Chad of Lichfield, Hugh of Lincoln, and King Charles the Martyr.  Future icons in this series will include St. Alban the Protomartyr and Edmund, King and Martyr.  This icon is 12 in. x 16 in., acrylic on wood.

In a pleasant break from the norm, I have also begun work on a Coptic-style icon of Christ enthroned.  The style is different and I am joyful with my progress so far (in fact, this was all done yesterday!).  You can also see the icon on the right which is the model.  Size is 10 in. x 17 in., acrylic on wood.

The Feast of the Exultation of the Cross

The Calvary Garden, The Community of the Resurrection, Mirfield

V. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.

R. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

"Don't romance the tragic," screamed my moral theology professor to us in class. The very thing that we have turned into jewelry, stickers, car magnets, and generally anything else that consumers will buy has not only romanced the tragic but anesthetized us from the real horror of the cross. The cross was a Roman torture device used for traitors and rebels of the Empire. I can envision hillsides littered with corpses and fallen crosses. It was the supreme statement of Rome to anyone who dared to defy her imperial power: we will hang you by the tree in the most humiliating death possible! The cross was cruel, the very shape intended to pull the body apart by means of a slow and certain death.

Today marks the Feast of the Exultation of the Cross (September 14th) and I cannot help but think of these things every year that we remember this day. I am afraid that so many of us Christians have softened the cross too much, glorifying it to the point of taking away its power.My doctrine professor says it quite succinctly, "there is only one cross that we glorify." Have we taken away it's efficacy? Has the meaning of the cross been dulled over time and by capitalism?

The versicle/response at the beginning is used at the start of each station during the Stations of the Cross. It is a clear reminder that by one cross and one Lord, the whole world was redeemed. Jesus the Son of God came into the world to teach us how to live, love, and forgive. His gospel was too radical for the established powers and principalities, overturning the balance of power in favor of the least, the lost, and the last. And we nailed him to the cross because of it, thereby God showing us the extremity and depths of true forgiveness and love.

A prayer from Saint Francis [paraphrased by BOB]:

"O Lord, may I feel in my body as much as possible the pain and suffering you endured on the cross. But even more, Lord, may I feel and know in my heart the love that brought you there." Amen.

Sweet Caroline

I found a new use for the maniple, and my model was my precious girl, Caroline. You can catch a glimpse of my latest icon of Our Lady of Walsingham in the background above my prayer desk.

A Prayer

“Fierce and Friendly Lord, we feel alone, but even here in school and in this class we discover friends we did not know we had. The discovery that we are not alone both gladdens and frightens us. Sharing life threatens loss of self. Give us the grace to learn that we have no life not shared. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, make us in your image that we might be worthy witnesses of the joy that comes from your claiming us as friends. Amen.”[1]

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[1] Stanley Hauerwas, Prayers Plainly Spoken (InterVarsity Press, 1999), p. 55.